


My Son

by damnednforsaken (bettythetl)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettythetl/pseuds/damnednforsaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A father searches for his son who was on a plane that had crashed that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Son

He's missing. That's all. Nothing's happened to him. He may have been on that flight when it went down, but my son's a good boy. He follows directions and keeps his head down. Nothing could happen to my son. Please, God, don't take my son away from his father.  
  
They're wheeling out some people from the plane. People are shouting all around me. Why is it so cold? My hands are shaking...  
  
No. Stop. He's fine.  
  
I ask if anyone has seen my son, my little boy. He was on the flight that crashed. Please, you must have seen him. He has dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and freckles.  
  
No? Thank you anyway.  
  
I try not to be frantic or panicky, but he's all I have left. He has to be safe. No father should bury his son.  
  
Someone takes me by the hand and leads me to the bodies. If he's there, then he'll be accounted for, they say. I don't want to, but I go.  
  
I see the charred bodies, and I feel as if I've been doused in ice water when I see it. It's a body of what was a little boy of about eight with singed hair and a burned away face. It's clutching the teddy bear I gave my son when he left to fly to my parents' house.  
  
No.  
  
My son is... No. He...  
  
I feel cold tile beneath my knees and wetness on my cheeks as I wonder again why it's so cold.  
  
Papa! I hear near me. I don't know why. No one should call me that now. I turn to yell at whoever is using that precious name when a small, warm body collides with my side. My arms grasp it instinctively, and I look down.  
  
My son. It's my son. Papa! He's crying, clutching me close, and I do the same, sobbing with relief.  
  
My son is alive.


End file.
